The opening sequence
to blue velvet is a brief preview of the film and what sort of mood is connoted
throughout the film. Firstly, the opening credits are written in very elegant
writing which implies a high level of sophistication for the forthcoming story
of the film but may be seen as unimportant at this moment of the film, however
more importantly the title ‘Blue Velvet’ is placed in front of a velvet curtain
and the curtain may imply that there’s something being hidden as this may be
seen as the primary use of the curtains.
The first proper film sequence we
see if the use of the roses in front of a white picket fence, which symbolises
American suburbia and so does the bright red roses and behind that is a perfectly
blue sky, also a nice summery American suburban culture. Interestingly along
with this, the colours in this scene are red, white and blue the colours of the American
flag, along with this the shot is an upward shot so it appears is if it
admiring the roses and therefore the flag, so appears to be highly patriotic,
and this is a very clever use.
Then the next shot we see is a
slow motion action shot of an old style fire engine and on the engine is a man
waving to the camera with his dog as the engine slowly drives past. This scene
is very clever technique wise because the fire engine used implies that it’s
based from the 70’s so we have established an estimate date; however a concern
in this is that the fire engine is meant to be quite old, but looks fairly
clean and new so this indicates that it’s not often used and well looked after,
furthermore, this could signify that is quite chilled and action-less and
recognised as a small moving area hence the slow motion camera technique.
Then the next shot we see is a
slow motion action shot of an old style fire engine and on the engine is a man
waving to the camera with his dog as the engine slowly drives past. This scene
is very clever technique wise because the fire engine used implies that it’s
based from the 70’s so we have established an estimate date; however a concern
in this is that the fire engine is meant to be quite old, but looks fairly
clean and new so this indicates that it’s not often used and well looked after,
furthermore, this could signify that is quite chilled and action-less and
recognised as a small moving area hence the slow motion camera technique.
He suddenly grabs his neck as if shot by a blowdart. After a moment of paralysis, he drops to the ground. The gardenhose tangles around his legs. A small dog, a Jack Russell terrier I think, comes over to sniff him and ends up playing with the hose, attempting to get a drink of water. Then things get odder as the camera zooms in on the man slowly, closer and closer to his body, until the camera is submerged in the blades of grass. As the camera slowly travels through the grass, our movie-going training in suspense conditions us to expect the answer to the mystery: a bullet shell perhaps. But there are no answers in the lawn; the camera plunges into the dirt, and we see hundreds of beetles climbing all over each other in the soil as the soundtrack amplifies the sound of beetle legs trampling beetle exoskeletons.
It’s tempting to say that the beetles represent the dark underworld of suburban American life, but that’s as misleading as it is glib. In Blue Velvet the characters who are shown in suburban settings–home, high school, the football field–are all innocent paragons of virtue. The twisted characters don’t live in track homes; they live in apartment buildings, old factory buildings and indeterminate bar-brothels.
This opening sequence serves to set the tone of the entire film and almost acts as a thesis for it. Its basic message is even in the things that seem perfect, there is ugliness and decay beneath the surface. The man having the stroke is meant to upset the audience and make them uneasy after seeing the idyllic scenes of suburban life. But the man's stroke is just the beginning as the audience is taken deeper into the unknown and witnesses the horrific looking beetles as they fight, right under the bright green grass on a typical lawn in suburbia. The contrast in lighting styles between the soft sunny neighborhood and the dark shadowed insect scene establish the co-existence of two separate worlds, one of innocence and happiness, the other of filth and violence, neither aware of the other.
He suddenly grabs his neck as if shot by a blowdart. After a moment of paralysis, he drops to the ground. The gardenhose tangles around his legs. A small dog, a Jack Russell terrier I think, comes over to sniff him and ends up playing with the hose, attempting to get a drink of water. Then things get odder as the camera zooms in on the man slowly, closer and closer to his body, until the camera is submerged in the blades of grass. As the camera slowly travels through the grass, our movie-going training in suspense conditions us to expect the answer to the mystery: a bullet shell perhaps. But there are no answers in the lawn; the camera plunges into the dirt, and we see hundreds of beetles climbing all over each other in the soil as the soundtrack amplifies the sound of beetle legs trampling beetle exoskeletons.
It’s tempting to say that the beetles represent the dark underworld of suburban American life, but that’s as misleading as it is glib. In Blue Velvet the characters who are shown in suburban settings–home, high school, the football field–are all innocent paragons of virtue. The twisted characters don’t live in track homes; they live in apartment buildings, old factory buildings and indeterminate bar-brothels.
This opening sequence serves to set the tone of the entire film and almost acts as a thesis for it. Its basic message is even in the things that seem perfect, there is ugliness and decay beneath the surface. The man having the stroke is meant to upset the audience and make them uneasy after seeing the idyllic scenes of suburban life. But the man's stroke is just the beginning as the audience is taken deeper into the unknown and witnesses the horrific looking beetles as they fight, right under the bright green grass on a typical lawn in suburbia. The contrast in lighting styles between the soft sunny neighborhood and the dark shadowed insect scene establish the co-existence of two separate worlds, one of innocence and happiness, the other of filth and violence, neither aware of the other.
No comments:
Post a Comment